Retreating to Dreams
by BananaMilknCherrydecaf
Summary: When life becomes far too painful to endure, a young man retreats into his dreams, the only place that none can touch, unmarred by sadness and loss. (Super short oneshot, light Merthur, but not a light read. Seeing as I can't bother to edit my actual chapter, one note: Reviews and POLITE criticisms are much appreciated.)


Hey guys! :) It's been quite some time since my last update/post, and I'm so very sorry about that, but change is always difficult to get used to, and I wallowed for far too long in self-pity.

Anyways, while surfing through Merlin fanfiction today, I got this serious wish to write a short oneshot about Merthur, but as a warning: THIS WILL NOT BE HAPPY. It will also be short, as I'm seriously crammed for work, but didn't want to put this off, because...well...writing fanfiction is always ten times more interesting than reading about Anselm's philosophical argument for God.

So, without further ado, here's it is! Please do enjoy! :)

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Merlin. However long I may dream and pretend to.

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**Retreating to Dreams**

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

His fingers twitched, as his groggy mind reluctantly pulled itself out of its hazy, fitful sleep.

_Click. Click._

The sound echoed throughout the empty corridor, poisonous silence falling as it came closer. Even the rats and vermin that so lazily claimed these grounds retreated in fear. A whimper slipped through his lips, unbidden, as he slowly opened his eyes to the darkness, fear unwillingly growing in his stomach.

_Click. Click. Click_.

The sound stopped, and he looked up into the merciless, gloating eyes of grey, peering through the grimy prison bars. The shimmery, black hair framed her pale, bloodless face, her beauty marred by the hatred and anger seeping through every orifice. With a slight, graceful movement of her hands, a guard stepped from the shadows and unlocked the door, retreating as quickly as he could, fear etched into a face that should hold confidence and pride.

As she stepped into the cells, her heels tapped against the stone floor, the sound almost mocking the bony, tired man against the wall. She stared, triumphantly, into the deep blue eyes, that have lost their shine and has been dulled through pain and exhaustion. Flinching as her hand cupped his face, he winced, the wounds around his wrist starting it slow oozing of blood and pus, reopened as it chaffed against the merciless black, dirty shackles.

"Well?" She said, confidence as well as frustration evident in her voice.

He opened slowly moved his dry lips, a croak leaving his throat. Licking his lips, he replied in a raspy voice, raw from lack of use, "No."

Anger flashed dangerously in her eyes, before being replaced with a mask of nonchalance. "Very well." With another slight motion, another guard stepped up, shooting a look of pity to the prisoner as he offered up a tray of various instruments, crusted with dried blood, to the regal woman. The shackled man stared warily at the contents of the tray, his expression devoid of any hope. As she fingered each one, relishing in her power, the man closed his eyes, his mind wearily returning into the hazy cloud of memories, running from the flash of light that signified the start of excruciating pain.

Those open, loving blue eyes.

His blond hair, crowning his head.

His confident, proud posture.

His defenseless, raw expressions as he opened up to the one person who could understand him.

His breathless voice, whispering into his ear.

_I love you, my Merlin_.

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Yay!

Okay that was pathetically short and also made me realize how crappy I've gotten T_T I'm sorry for the abysmal writing, and for being away for so long, for those who read my works/remember me, I am honored beyond words.

Anyways, I'm sorry for this downer of a oneshot, and I swear, I will beginning updating in the near future (next week, to be precise), and my other stories are happier and (hopefully) worth the read, so please do check them out.

Lots of love! (as always)

~CherryDecaf


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